Eye of the Beholder

Lucius rolled over in the bed, clutching his head in his hands. Narcissia had opened the heavy drapes covering the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the morning sun was shining in, awakening him with a vengeance. He tried to sit up, but the pain in his head forced him to lay back down. What in bloody hell did her do last night to cause himself such grief? Lucius groaned and tried not to move.

Last night. What happened last night? He tried to think back to the evening’s events. His last memory was nterntering the fireplace in his study on his way to persuade Snape’s little twit of a girlfriend to come with him. He had instructed Crabbe and Goyle to get there by carriage in case the floo network was down, and Lucius could not get through. What had happened after that?

Gingerly, Lucius reached up and touched the side of his face. His cheeks were hot and slightly swollen, and the pounding in his temples suggested he had consumed far more than he usually did. Why could he not remember what had happened?

Angrily, Lucius gritted his teeth and threw off the covers from the bed. He forced himself up, ignoring the increased pounding in his temples. Grasping onto his antique highboy for balance, he staggered towards the fireplace across the room. Normally he would never lower himself to communicate via the floo network, but sending an owl would be too cumbersome, as he had questions he wanted answered. Immediately.

Grabbing a handful of the silvery powder, Lucius fell onto his knees and ignoring the indignity, he stuck his blond head into the fireplace, and angrily tossed in the powder. "Malfoy dungeon basement, Avery," he hissed, as a wave of pain struck the insides of his head. Once Lucius saw the green flames, he stuck his head through further and looked pass the back of the fireplace into the room beyond. What he saw was the aftermath of an evening of revelry and debauchery.

There were still a few bodies lying across the stone sacrificial slabs, either passed out or possibly dead. Lucius neither cared, nor troubled himself to find out. He looked around until he saw a foot he recognized, sticking out from under a filthy and torn robe.

"Avery!" Lucius screamed, fighting down a wave of nausea from his headache. The figure under the robe turned, and looked up blearily at the hovering head of Lucius in the nearby fireplace. He grunted in response. "What the hell happened here last night?" he demanded.

Avery sat up, and Lucius noticed the smears of blood across his chest and arms. Looking around as if getting his bearings, Avery shook his head as if clearing away the last remains of sleep. With a vague sweep of his arm, he indicated the figures on the slabs, and the pools of vomit and blood on the floor.

"What do you think happened here last night, Malfoy. The usual." As if just recognizing that Lucius asking about what had happened in his own home was unusual, Avery narrowed his eyes. "Why are you asking me? You were there."

"That is none of your business," Lucius snapped, angered that he would be questioned, and not wanting to admit he could not remember. "Just tell me, did we follow through with our plan regarding Snape and his little friend?"

A cruel smile passed over Avery’s face, and with a smirk of satisfaction, he indicated a particularly large pool of blood under one of the stone slabs. Peering into the murky darkness, Lucius could see small bits of flesh swimming in there.

"Oh yes," he replied with great satisfaction in his voice. From the tone, Lucius knew Avery had not been easy on the girl.

"Did she live?" he asked coldly. Avery paused, and looked at him strangely, but eventually he nodded in response.

"Barely. I think Snape stopped things before it was too late," Avery replied, thinking back on the previous evening.

"Pity that, I was really getting into it..."

With a look of revolted disgust, Lucius looked away from the mess. "And what happened to Snape after that?" Lucius could not remember a thing about the previous evening, and it angered him. He could not have the satisfaction of having first hand recollection of Snape’s reactions. He did not care what happened to the girl - it was Snape he wanted to know about. If he cried like a child, or if he stood his ground, watching the horror happen right in front of him.

"Dunno," he replieot rot really caring. "How is your throat, Malfoy?" Avery asked casually, but with a smirk on his face. Lucius was confused. It was his head and face that were bothering him, not his throat. He chose to ignore the comment.

Lucius turned his best sneer on Avery. "Well, now that the evening has ended, I want you out of my house. And Avery," Lucius said, pausing for effect, "do be a gentleman and clean up your mess." Lucius indicated the pools of vomit and gore on the floor before he quickly pulled his head back from the fireplace. He pretended he missed the gesture Avery gave him in response to his taunt.

His head still throbbing, Lucius stood and climbed back into bed. This lack of memory did not sit well with him. He had never before experienced anything like it, and frankly, it did not feel right. He felt like he was missing out on something... Frowning, Lucius rang for a house elf. A cup of tea would be a start to waking him up and getting him on his feet again.

He thought for a moment. Once his headache had passed, he decided he would pay Snape a little visit. A cruel smile marred his normally handsome features. He was very curious what Snape would have to say to him, and see what had happened to his little crumpet.

Lucius lay back down, and nursed his headache while he patiently waited for the elf to bring him his cup of tea.